"The research." Blair replied with a shrug. "You'd be amazed what you can put up with in the name of research, if that's your field."
"That's not some Sentinel crack, is it Chief?" Jim was smiling. Blair tried to respond in kind, but smiling hurt his face too much. He knew his sharp intake of breath was noticed. "Listen, get some rest. They said I can pick you up in the morning, take you home." Jim stood, pushing the chair back where he found it. "This investigation is just beginning. Don't worry Blair, we'll get this straightened out. Trust me."
"I do, Jim." Blair replied quietly. "I'm just a little scared, you know?"
Jim looked at him, "I know, Chief. I know." He put a hand on Blair's shoulder for a moment, then left the room.
Blair watched him go, half wishing he'd stay, but sleep was creeping up on him again and he didn't want to deny it. They had him drugged up most of the day, and he had just been given another shot prior to Jim's arrival. The pain was manageable when he stayed perfectly still, but he didn't want to stay still. He wanted to go with Jim back to the University. Back to the crime scene. Somewhere, somehow, there was something there to find that would clear his name. Would Jim find it without him there? Of course he would. Jim Ellison had been a Detective longer than he had been a Sentinel. At least, longer than he had known he was a Sentinel. Blair was just a Guide. How important was that to police work? He wanted Jim to come back, tell him he was needed at the scene. What would Jim do if he was in prison? Stupid, he'd go back to work. But Jim didn't always think to use his Sentinel senses on the job. Was that because Blair was necessary, or because Jim wanted him to feel necessary? And if he hadn't gone to Peru, would Jim have followed the panther? Or would he have denied his senses and gone back to being James Ellison, cop? Leaving the Sentinel behind. God, where would he be now if he had gone to Borneo? He would be happily studying somewhere with Dr Stoddard. But that would have meant not only leaving Jim, but leaving his Sentinel research as well. A research that he believed in, that he was basing his career on. Research that Professor Wilson had called 'absurd'. What was he going to do if they sent him to prison? He couldn't survive another day in the holding cell, what would prison be like? He wasn't foolish enough to think he could ever live through that. He had to trust his friend would get him out of this.
"I do, Jim." he whispered, just as sleep overtook him.
* * *
Jim unlocked the door to the loft and pushed it open, putting a hand on Blair's back to usher him gently inside. He had picked up his partner at the hospital early that morning, and wanted to get him settled in at home before going in to the Precinct. Blair was walking slowly, and kept an arm wrapped around his stomach.
"Bed, or the couch?" Jim asked as he closed the door. Blair walked straight to the couch and began slowly lowering himself down.
"I'm fine Jim, thanks." he replied. "I'm out on bail, aren't I?"
Jim crossed the room and pulled a blanket and two pillows from a chest, then began stuffing the pillows behind his friend's back as he settled in on the couch. "Yep. Don't worry about it Chief, we'll get this figured out before anything else happens. You'll stay here until then."
Blair wasn't protesting the pillows, but set the blanket Jim was unfolding off to the side. "I'm fine, Jim. Thanks."
"How about something to eat? Coffee?" Jim passed the couch and walked to the kitchen, flipping on the switch to the coffee pot he had filled before going to get Blair.
"Jim, what's going on? What have you found out?"
He could hear Blair trying not to use much air when he spoke. Jim had been angered with the sight of his friend in the hospital room when he arrived. The bruises on his neck, the split lip, and the slow, deliberate way he was walking, reminded Jim of what had happened just a few floors down from his own office. He wanted Blair to explain what he had meant about the officers at the Precinct, but he didn't want to upset Blair further with that discussion. He was going to make sure those responsible were held in account. "How about some eggs?"
"Jim, come on."
"Okay Chief, okay." Jim returned to the couch with two cups of coffee, handing one to Blair. "You've been framed, that's obvious. And it's a good one, but we'll figure it out." he sat down in the chair next to the couch so as not to jostle his friend. "And, it's someone who didn't know you work with me. There's no way any partner of mine would be stupid enough to use a spear from his own office, then put it right back on the wall, blood and all."
Blair shook his head, smiling a little. "Thanks, Jim."
"So, we just have to find out who hated Wilson enough to off him. Why they did, and why they felt the need to frame you for it."
"That's what I don't understand. I mean, Wilson had few friends, but murder?"
Jim glanced at his watch. "Hey, I gotta get going. You going to be okay? Do you need anything? Are you sure you're not hungry? "
"No, Jim. I'm fine. I just need to get out of this mess, that's all."
"Don't worry Chief, I'm on the case." He dumped the rest of his coffee down the sink and rinsed out his cup. "You sure you don't want something to eat? I can fix some eggs real quick."
"No, thanks. I'm not hungry." Blair reached out for the blanket now and pulled it over his legs and body, hugging his abdomen with both arms.
"Okay Chief. I better get going."
"Hey Jim, I don't understand. How can I be out on bail if there was no arraignment?"
"There was. Suspects don't have to be present to be arraigned." Jim pulled on his coat and grabbed the keys, moving the phone to within easy reach on the coffee table. "Happens all the time. Simon got the DA to take it to night-court, then I posted bail that night."
"Bail? What does a prime suspect go for these days?"
Jim adjusted the collar of his jacket. "Don't worry about it, Sandburg. You're not skipping out, and when we arrest the murderer, I'll get the money back. Just sit there and get some rest." He left then, before Blair could voice the protest Jim could see forming in his eyes. He had to put up his truck against the bail bond, but there was just no way he was going to let them keep Blair in jail while he found the killer. Having to handcuff his partner and take him down to the officer's in Central Booking had been one of the hardest things he had ever done. But Simon was right. They needed to play everything by the book if they were going to secure Blair's permanent release.
Part 4
* * *
"Jim, how's the kid?"
Jim looked up from his desk as Simon approached, chewing his ever present cigar. "He's hurt, Simon." Jim replied, glancing around the room at the faces there. "He was three floors down, for God's sake. This should never have happened."
Simon motioned for Jim to follow him into the office. Once there he closed the door, "Take a seat, Jim."
"Simon, I need to get over to the University." But Jim sat anyway.
"I know, this will just take a minute. It's about Nelson, downstairs." Simon sat behind his desk and pulled the cigar from his mouth, twirling it around in his fingers. "Both he and Scott said they didn't see anything, until it was over."
"And you believe them?"
"Jim, these are our own guys." Simon replied, hotly.
Jim shook his head. Our own guys. "And what was Blair, Simon?"
Simon sighed, "Okay, I know. But, the kid was under arrest for murder. Still is as far as I'm concerned. Until you find some hard evidence to clear him."
Jim looked away for a moment, then back to Simon. "I will. He didn't do this Simon. I can't believe you think he's capable of it."
"I don't, not really. And there's still no excuse for what happened in that cell. Apparently they thought he was a cop. And you know how it can be in there." Jim nodded. All the more reason to keep Blair out. "Is he at your place now?"
"Yeah, he's home. I think it's safe to say he isn't going anywhere for a while, he needs to rest." Jim stood, "But I need to get back to the University. I spoke to several people in the building today and no one heard the argument Ms Fisher claim
s took place, except one. Professor Kinyon. She's going to be in this afternoon and I need to see her." Simon nodded and resumed chewing his cigar as Jim left the office.
As he stepped out of Simon's office, someone approached.
"Hey, Ellison. You looking for a new partner yet?"
Jim looked up and saw Officer Nelson standing there. "You son of a bitch!"
Jim must have made a lunge, he couldn't really remember, but arms wrapped around him as Nelson fell backwards, quickly trying to get out of the larger man's way.
"Jim!" Simon was pulling Jim back, and two other men were stepping between them. "Jim, take it easy. Calm down." he moved around from behind Jim and faced Nelson. "Just take it easy."
Jim shrugged out of Simon's hands and glanced around. The other Detectives had all approached, pushing Nelson away from him. Other hands were patting him on the back, someone said something derogatory about uniformed officers and he turned, trying to identify the source.
"I'm all right Simon. Just keep him away from me." Jim pulled on his jacket and walked quickly out of the office, not turning back.
"Hey Ellison, hold the elevator."
"Mike. I'm sorry about that. I just..."
"Not a problem, Jim." Detective Jenkins hurried into the elevator with Jim, nodding. "That Nelson's a dick. He's been bucking for his gold shield and missing for the past three years. Hey, how's Sandburg?"
"He'll live. Thanks for asking."
"Don't let them get to you. I know what happened shouldn't have, and I feel guilty just being a cop sometimes. But those uniforms, well some of them just don't like the kid. Personally, I think he's okay. Maybe needs a haircut, but he's been the best thing to happen to you since Jack."
"Yes. Yes he has." Jim replied. The doors opened then on the second floor and Mike got out, slapping Jim on the arm as he did so.
On his way to the parking garage, Jim passed several uniformed and plainclothes officers. He saw these same people every day, and had for the past four years. Some of them were friends, some just co-workers. But all of them were cops. He had never really thought about how his friend was viewed by the others in the department. He had just assumed since he was working with him, that he was accepted. Blair had never said anything before about not feeling comfortable around the others. Were they tolerating him for Jim's sake, as Blair suggested? The Detectives, at least, seemed to like him well enough. He reached the truck and climbed in, glancing momentarily at the empty passenger seat. Blair was his partner, cop or not. Before Jack and after Jack's disappearance, Jim had refused partners. But Blair was different. He wasn't a cop, therefore it was easier for Jim to accept him being there. But to think his 'friends' were just putting up with him because of Jim. That, he didn't want to believe.
He arrived at the University just before 4:00, when he was told Professor Kinyon would be finished with class. Her office was right next door to Wilson's. Chances were, if there was a fight and she was in her office, she would have heard it. He walked down the hall, noting that the carpet had been cleaned. Forensics hadn't been able to pull any sole marks from the few drops of blood that had been stepped in. No blood had been found on Blair's shoes, but they hadn't expected to, after he'd been in the rain that night. And if Blair had stepped in blood, there would be imprints of his sneakers in the blood smeared down the hall. Jim paused momentarily at the door to Wilson's office, checking the seal on the yellow Police Line tape across the entrance. Professor Kinyon's office was one door down. He knocked.
"Come in." A female voice called.
Jim opened the door and stepped in, looking around. "Professor Kinyon?" He couldn't find anyone in the room. Just then a woman's head poked up from behind the desk, followed by several armfuls of papers. Jim caught a fleeting glimpse of a slim woman in her early fifties. Greying hair pulled back in a bun that had several escapees hanging down. No less than three pencils sticking out of the bun itself. Her glasses were threatening to fall off the end of her nose as she glanced up, peering through them at Jim.
"Yes? Oh, pardon me, I'm not too coordinated, I'm afraid. I just dropped the entire contents of my briefcase all over the floor." She disappeared behind the desk again, then reappeared with an open briefcase stuffed full of loose papers.
"Professor, I'm Detective Ellison. I called yesterday?"
"Oh yes, come in. Have a seat. I'll be just a moment." She ducked behind the desk again as Jim sat down. "It's about Professor Wilson, isn't it? Poor man. I can't believe he's gone. You know, I was just planning his congratulatory party the other day. Poor man." She reappeared again and sat down, pulling her chair up to the desk. Jim was reminded of his favorite grade school teacher, gently greying hair, glasses with that old fashioned chain holding them around her neck. Everyone's favorite grandmother, if a bit young for that.
He opened his mouth to speak, but she continued.
"I just can't believe Blair Sandburg has been arrested. It's just not possible. Although, I must admit, after that argument the other day, or was it last week? Yes, that's it, last week. I just couldn't believe it. I almost went over there myself, to see what on earth was going on. I mean, Professor Wilson just wasn't the type to argue like that. Well, that's not really true. You see, he was a hard man to get along with sometimes. Not that I had any trouble, mind you. But, I'm afraid Blair is just one of those people who, well, I can see his enthusiasm sometimes wear on the older Professors here. But you know, that's what keeps us young. He's just so bright, and the students love him." She sighed and Jim tried again to speak, but he wasn't quick enough. "Did you know that Ms Fisher was his assistant for a semester? Well, that wasn't taking her far enough, apparently. I mean that in the scientific sense, of course." She smiled and Jim tried to cut in but failed. "You know, if I wasn't in my forties, and married, I'd make a play for the young man myself. He's simply adorable. But, she was more career-minded. Some women are like that. She saw Professor Wilson, poor man, as someone she could get farther with, scholastically. Tsk. Little did she know, Professor Wilson just wasn't the sharing type." She adjusted her glasses but kept on talking. "You see, he liked to have his assistants do the dirty work, and by that I mean the boring, book work that so much research is made up of. But then, he was famous for taking all of the credit in his papers. I guess he wasn't famous enough, though, if she didn't realize it. Hum, there's a thought. I suppose she was more interested in the research herself. I mean, after all, being a part of such a grant was an honor. Whether you got credit for much of the work is beside the point. In fact, I was stunned myself when I heard Blair had refused Dr Stoddard's offer to accompany him to Borneo. That was after he was passed up for his own grant, you know. The one that Professor Wilson was awarded. Yes, I was surprised. That kind of opportunity doesn't come along often. And he may never get another chance for such notoriety." She sighed again and Jim made a play, but was ignored. "Well, he is so devoted to his own studies, I suppose he just didn't want to stop for the year it would have taken to work with Dr Stoddard. Did you know, Professor Wilson was so adamantly against Blair's field, that rumor has it he influenced the Board against him? Well, that's just rumor, mind you. I don't believe much of it myself. Although, that is what the argument was about. But still, Blair Sandburg, murderer? I simply don't believe it."
The sudden silence startled Jim. He had just realized she was finished when she started up again.
"But, here's the tape. I guess you would know better if it was a real fight or not. I mean, we all have little disagreements and verbal confrontations now and again. How bad could it be? And if Blair already knew, in fact had known for months now, that the grant wasn't his, why on earth would he kill someone over it? We all have skeptics in regards to our chosen fields of study or research. Why on earth Professor Wilson's dislike of Blair's studies would warrant murder, I'll never understand. No. I simply don't believe Blair Sandburg is capable of murder." She stopped suddenly again and Jim was ready.
"Tape?" He had accepted the cassette she hande
d him during the speech and now looked at her questioningly.
"Yes. The tape." she replied simply. "That I was dictating into." she paused, waiting for him to understand. "During the argument next door?" She realized he had no idea what she meant. "You see, I dictate my notes. Then my husband types them for me at night. He enjoys that, says it's relaxing to just listen to my voice on tape and sit at the computer." She shook her head, smiling. "Well, anyway, during the notes from last week's lecture--I recite them to myself--before giving them to the students. Anyway, I was in the middle of them when I heard raised voices from the next office. Professor Wilson's office. I walked over to the wall, to listen, and I had the tape recorder in my hands, still recording. I didn't realize until that evening, when my husband was listening to the tape, that the argument was on there. Granted, it's a bit muffled, being through the walls and all, but I understand that you people have ways of getting sounds off of things like this?"
He was shocked. Not so much about the fortuitous cassette tape in his hand, but at the lung capacity of Professor Kinyon. For such a small, delicate looking woman, she was inexhaustible.
"I hope I was able to answer all of your questions."
Jim quickly tried to review the questions he had planned to ask, trying to see if there was anything he needed to know that her little dissertation hadn't already covered. "Ah, yes. I believe so. Except for just one thing, you said Professor Wilson was famous for not sharing credit for the research? Is this a big issue?"
She raised her eyebrows for a moment, looking surprised. "Why yes. Yes indeed. Oh, I guess in your line of work you wouldn't understand. Well, in the scientific field, your name is your link to success. You see, when research is done, and papers are published, it's all in the name. Yes indeed, it's all in the name. If you work for a year assisting someone, finding their data, correlating the findings, and even making discoveries and observations of your own, you need to be acknowledged in the paper that is published with the findings. You see, if you hope to go on and fund your own research, or apply to work with someone else, you must be able to show a...well a resume if you will, of the work you are capable of. Like Blair, he's well known in his research and contributions, which is why Dr Stoddard thought so highly of him. But alas, when Professor Wilson has--I mean had--when he had his assistants doing work for him, they were inevitably left out completely when the findings were published. Now, Professor Wilson had just been awarded a large grant for a fantastic study. I suppose it would be worth her while to accompany him, but I'm sure Ms Fisher knew she would be getting no credit. None whatsoever."
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